


World on Angelfire

by sianyboxx



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Penryn & the End of Days - Susan Ee, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels, Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Wings, Angel Wings, Angels are Dicks, F/M, I SOMETIMES USE SWEARS IM SORRY, M/M, but also some angels arent dicks, lots of brotps
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-07-11 14:58:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7057159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sianyboxx/pseuds/sianyboxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Six weeks. That's how long it had been since the angels first appeared in all their radiance to mankind. Six weeks since the archangel Gabriel had revealed himself, proclaiming the glory of the heavens above on screens all around the world. Six weeks since he had been mercilessly shot down, igniting the greatest war to ever hit humanity. </i><br/> </p><p>Out of the ruins of what was once New York, a thin thread of promise grows ever stronger. A group known as the 'Avengers' have established a safe haven; collecting people, salvaging what they are able, scavenging the remains of the broken city. All in the hope that they can make it through the angelic onslaught and maybe, hopefully, find a way to fight back.</p><p>When an angel falls straight into their laps, he just may be the answer to their prayers.</p><p>Or the key to their downfall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

When Steve Rogers had thought of the apocalypse, he hadn't imagined it happening the way it did. He'd have called himself religious before, not devoutly so. But mention the end of the world and Steve would initially have thought of fire and brimstone and stories from the bible. He did have a healthy faith in science, and technology, and once thought that maybe it would be the oceans and seas that would swallow the earth. Hell, Steve had even lost a good few afternoons with friends discussing the merits of a zombie outbreak plan and what to do in the event of a robot uprising. 

Angels descending to earth wreaking havoc, death and destruction wherever they went? That had never been an option.

But apparently it was. On that fateful night when the archangel Gabriel had been slaughtered by one of mankind’s own, the destiny of the world had been determined. With a righteous vengeance the angels had swarmed, slaughtering all who got in their way and leaving devastation in their wake. Vicious gangs had popped up nearly overnight, determined to stake their claim on what was left, by any means necessary. With the gangs ruling the days and fear ruling the nights, it wasn't long until there was nothing left but chaos and ruin.

Steve had been lucky to survive the initial onslaught. Putting his Special Forces knowledge to use, he had stayed off the grid, staying well clear of anywhere he thought the angels or gangs might be. Eventually he made it to the SHIELD base where he had first been heading, and his desperate wish was granted when he found others sheltering there, scared but determined to survive. Sam Wilson, an old friend who Steve was glad to see, did the introductions.

Scientists Bruce Banner and Jane Foster, Jane's partner Thor Odinson and her intern Darcy Lewis, who had all been visiting the compound at the time of the attack. A kid called Peter Parker, whose uncle had died getting him and his Aunt May to safety. Scott Lang, a quantum mechanic doing research, Clint Barton, a 'security specialist'. And Steve.

Ten people.

That had been the entirety of their group for the first seven days. Ten people against the brutal gangs and an army of angelic warriors. But they endured, and their group grew in numbers, and after a while they fell into a sort of routine as everyone realised what they needed to do to survive.

They cycled through guard duties, even Peter insisting he take a turn on watch. The first few days especially were hard, lack of sleep and nerves getting to everyone at some point, and there were more than a few arguments that first week. Over time as the number of people grew, so too could the number of people on rotation, and that was something Steve was so very grateful for.

They travelled often into the nearby forest, looking for any edible food and plants. They rationed food, collecting supplies on highly risky but sorely needed runs into nearby towns. Steve was always on these missions, often with Sam as his second in command. They avoided the supermarkets and malls, knowing the gangs often lay in wait for poor unsuspecting victims, instead choosing to hit the smaller gas stations and homes. The day two weeks in where they entered a house and found not only a huge stash of untouched food and medicine, but a beautiful set of guns and ammo in an upstairs cupboard lifted the mood entirely, and Steve was struck with the sudden notion that things were going to be ok. It was an odd sensation, but it stayed with him all the way back to the compound, and though the delicious meal that Darcy and newbie Wanda had whipped up, and into the night beyond.

After the first attempted invasion by a rival gang left everyone shaken to the core, Steve had the scientists figure out the best way to fortify the buildings. By the end of the fourth week Scott, Clint and Thor had fully modified the main compounds and four of the attached buildings. They realised they had gotten lucky when it was discovered that Peter was a bit of a whiz kid, and under his aunt's slightly disapproving eye he worked with Bruce to create some truly inventive booby traps. Steve's favourite was a particularly clever sticky grenade that released an impossible-to-get-out-of web aimed at stopping angels in their tracks.

After five weeks, the number of people had tripled, with new people arriving at least once a week. Once through a rigorous interrogation with Clint and only when they had been vetted by Steve were newcomers invited to stay, and put into rotation for various chores and jobs. Most made it through, and only twice had they had to turn away people who had turned out to be from the rival gang 'HYDRA'. By now they had amassed quite an arsenal, including a highly coveted and prized machine gun, and between that, Peters ever growing collection of booby traps and grenades, Scott's newly made combat suits and Bruce's upgraded security systems, Steve felt pretty secure in thinking that should it come to it, they would be a fairly formidable foe should anyone come knocking.

* * *

Six weeks in and things were going well. Food stocks were high, there had been no problems on their last four recon missions, and there had hardly been an angel sighting at all for days. Just having checked on the change in watch, Steve was about to head down to the rec room when a sudden crash rocked the building. Instantly on alert, he pulled the gun from its usual place on his hip. Pushing the panic button oh the side of his walkie talkie, he hoped everyone was getting the message as he ran down the outer corridor towards the source of the noise.

The source of the noise had come from an unused part of the compound, one that Steve had actually been thinking of doing up in the near future. He met Clint coming from an entrance on the left, and motioned for quiet. Clint simply nodded, not needing to be told twice. Guns up, treading quietly, Steve pushed the door aside and the two men rounded the corner. Steve felt a smoky breeze first, then noticed the gaping hole in the side of the building. He heard Clint curse beside him and begin firing of commands into his walkie talkie, and Steve tore his gaze from the wall to the prone figure on the other side of the room.

A coat that had once been a deep blue but was now smudged and torn hung loosely around the body of a man. Dark hair was damp with what Steve could only assume was blood from the enormous gash running down the side of his face. A sword attached to the man's pants glinted in the weak overhead light.

But none of that truly mattered, for what Steve couldn't take his eyes off were the huge, silky wings sprouting from the man's back. They fluttered slightly in the air from outside, and as he watched the feathers took on a red and gold tinge. Steve had to fight the urge to reach out and run his hands through them. It wasn't until the man let out a soft groan that he snapped out of it and realised just what sort of trouble they were in.

An angel, up close and personal. And he was waking up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I just want to say thank-you to everyone who's bookmarked, commented, and given kudos, or even if you've just read this. I am honestly so blown away by the reaction to this weird little AU that I literally smashed out in a couple hours at two in the morning last week. I had no idea it would get this kind of reception, it may not seem like a lot but to me it means so much!
> 
> Also a little disclaimer: as much as I would love to claim credit for the 'angel apocalypse' idea, I really can't. That all belongs to the fantastic Susan Ee who wrote the great trilogy that this story is set in. The universe she has created is so incredible, as well as having one of the best female characters I've read in a while! It's such a great read and well worth your time. 
> 
> And on that note, I'll stop rambling, onto the next chapter!

“Fuck me Steve, what're we going to do?” Clint said, running a hand through his hair as he stared in frustration at the trussed up figure before them. And trussed up he was.

The five of them hadn't wanted to try their luck. Thor had gotten lucky with his blow to the angels head but despite that, they had taken every precaution to make sure that the angel was tied down good and proper. All of them, Steve and Luke in particular, had seen the full devastating strength of the angels when they were at their peak. But, Steve was hoping, this angel was not. And judging by the various wounds and grazes all over, this one had been put through the wringer.

On closer inspection the gash on the figures face was deep, blood having eventually crusted over to partially seal the wound. When Clint opened the jacket to search for weapons all they got was a torn 'Iron Maiden' shirt and a multitude of bruises and cuts. The varying colours of the bruises suggested that either they were from a previous fight, or that their angelic invaders healed faster than most. Steve desperately hoped for the former.

In their hurry to get the angel secure the men had been quite rough with the angel, and hadn't stopped to take full stock of their captive's injuries. Once tied up however, different story.

"Somethings off with..." Sam's voice petered out as he motioned towards the figure before them, and Steve noticed that he was right. One of the angels wings was sitting at an odd angle. Maybe it was broken? At Steve's nod of assent, Clint moved forward and cut open the back of the jacket, through the bloody t-shirt to reveal the body beneath.

"Oh shit..." Clint took a step back, a mixture of awe and horror swimming through his eyes. The others crowded around, curiosity getting the better of them.

Blood was covering the angel's back, coming from a huge tear in his shoulder. His left wing was half off, the wound jagged and broken as though someone had begun to hack away at it and then decided to just try and tear it away. It was brutal, and had Steve not been witness himself to their amazing feats of strength he would have wondered how the angel was able to survive in that condition, let alone fly. And judging by the amount of blood, it must have been a while.

An image tore suddenly through Steve's mind, harsh and fierce. Him, ripping the beautiful wing off entirely, letting the angel die before them. That would have certainly satisfied that ever growing part of him that called for bloody revenge.

But it was quickly banished by the other side of Steve, the one that he tried desperately to hold onto even throughout all the atrocities that he had been witness to. If he could call it anything, he would call it his humanity. That part of him that refused to sink to the angel's level. The part that showed compassion and kindness and mercy even in the face of the destruction of humankind. And so Steve told Sam to call their resident doctor down to have a look at the angel, to see if there was anything he could do to stop the bleeding.

"Tell Bruce to bring a suture kit and a heap of bandages, see if we can't fix it up." He was interrupted by Luke pulling him aside, the man torn between staring Steve down and glaring at the angel before them.

"Why are we wasting supplies on this thing? Can't we just let it bleed out and be done with it? He would fetch us a fortune on the market." Luke's deep voice held a harshness to it, and Steve could see the barely controlled anger simmering just below the surface. He could understand. The man had nearly lost everything in the aftermath of the angels attack. Luke's best friends had been killed in a gang ambush, and his wife Jessica had been unconscious since they arrived a few days earlier. She was lying in medical beside their daughter Danielle, who was awake but recovering from a nasty gash on her thigh that had turned septic. It had caused the infection to spread, and the young girl had gone almost delirious from the sickness.

"We can't just let him bleed out." An incredulous scoff imediately followed Steve's comment.

"Come on! He's one of them! One of the enemy, Steve, he's probably murdered a thousand people, or more, and you're just going to... to fix him up, like he's one of us? Like he's human?" Luke's anger was palpable, and Steve could see the others in the room eyeing the situation carefully, ready to step in if it came to it.

"Enough! We're gonna try and help him, and that's final. Y'hear?" Steve's voice brooked no further arguments as he stared Luke down, watching as the protest in the man's eyes gave way to angry bitterness. At Steve's order to find whatever the could to at least slow down the bleeding, Luke stalked away, kicking a chair on his way out the door.

With a surprising grace that belied his large stature, Thor tended to the angel as best he could, plugging most of the blood and rearranging the wing into a slightly better angle. Clint returned the chains around the wings, double, triple checking that everything was in place and that hopefully nothing could go wrong.

The four of them stood back, a loose semicircle around their captive. The adrenaline now wearing off, the sound of their breath was the only constant as they stood there, each finally processing just what they were dealing with.

All was quiet until an angry yell broke their silence, startling the group.

Steve left Sam on first watch and followed Luke's frustrated growls, the others trailing behind. They found him in the demolished room where they had first found their intruder. He was glaring viciously at an item on the floor, as though his willpower alone could banish it from existence. The sword that had fallen from the angel's grasp glistened mockingly back, eerily bright in the weakening light.

"Dude what's the problem?" Clint's voice was casual, placating, not wanting to irritate the huge man any more than necessary. Luke just pointed.

"This thing? What's the matter, you - " Any smartass comment died on Clint's lips as he tried, and failed to lift the sword from the ground.

It wouldn't budge. No matter how hard Clint and then Thor pulled, it didn't move an bit. Bar Steve moving it a slight inch, the gleaming silver sword stayed right where it had fallen. Clint, being the little shit that he not-so-secretly was, naturally began to place bets on who out if the entire compound would be the first to be able to pick the sword up. Steve gave what he hoped was a stern look towards the specialist when he overheard him whispering for Rhodey, Logan and Peter to 'get their asses down here now'.

Clint had developed a soft spot for Peter, and had taken him under his wing, which meant that Steve felt a tad more comfortable with a kid so near an angel, even one that was unconscious. Didn't mean that he was 100% okay with it by any means, but after all, they were living through the end of the world. Sometimes it meant doing things that didn't sit right with you.

It also meant relishing in the little joys whenever they were given to you, so Steve chose to look the other way, ignoring their antics. This included Sam and Thor who were trying to hide their grins, and their bets, with little success. Eventually Steve would have to reign them in but for now, he let it be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there we go, another chapter down. Surprised I'm actually sticking to the schedule so far. We'll see how long it lasts for! 
> 
> I tend to get quite in the zone when writing, and often I miss little mistakes and bits that aren't exactly right. All errors are completely mine, so don't be afraid to gimme a shout if there's something I can fix or somewhere that I can touch up. Also, I know it sounds ridiculous but I am terrified of writing dialogue, it's the one thing that I hate most. It always ends up sounding so clunky to me, so let me know how it goes!
> 
> As always, let me know what you think. It may seem like I'm jumping ahead quite quickly but I have got this sort of planned out, and hopefully it makes sense the way I'm doing it! I love seeing your reactions and thoughts on it, they really give me life. Any constructive criticism is always welcome too, I know I'm not the best so I'm always on the lookout for ways to improve!
> 
> Much love guys!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late!!! I was away for a friends birthday these past few days and realised that I had missed my deadline for a new chapter, so I hope this is okay for now! It is only half of the intended flashback "what happened while the angel was unconcious" chapter so expect the second part in a few days!  
> Once again, thank-you all for your kind words of ecouragment and support for this story, you don't know how much it means! Love to you all!

_“If he finds you, he'll have your wings.” A red headed angel paced back and forth in front of a workshop, blood red wings tucked tightly into her side. Agitation was written all over her features, her pursed lips the only sign of worry for the person in front of her._

_“He can try. I can't do this any more. I won't. It's not right.” The angel's hands were flying, his red and gold wings flicking out in matching anger._

_“We all have our orders. So does he. He's only doing-”_

_“Enough Raziel!" Said angel paused in her pacing, staring him down with challenge in her eyes. "You know as well as I those orders don't come from the man upstairs. You can't tell me that he would condone that sort of... of demented experimentation! No, God's definitely not running this show.” A sudden movement caught the angels' eyes. They froze, worried they had been caught before they had even started. Two figures slunk out of the shadows, one with black and white speckled wings, the other sporting wings of metallic grey._

_“Careful Sachiel, that's blasphemy that is. You never know who could be listening.” The two relaxed, instantly recognising the newcomers. Sachiel couldn't help the pang that shot though him at the soft drawl of the blue eyed man in front of him. He was going to miss them._

_“What, you mean rabble like you Barachiel? Ooh I'm quivering in my boots.” An answering snort and accompanying shove was all he got as a bag was held out by the other angel._

_“Here, thought you might need this where you're going.”_

_“Aw Cassie, you shouldn't have.”_

_“I can always take it back?” The man held it out of reach, toying with the shorter angel._

_“No, gimme.” At the grabbing motions Sachiel made with his hands, Cassiel tried hard to suppress his eye roll. The other two angels did no such thing, not bothering to hide their amusement. Upon further inspection the bag proved to be full of new clothes, ones that appeared to be more suited to life amongst humans than the present garb he found himself in. A royal blue jacket sat atop the pile. Sachiel had to resist the urge to put it on there and then._

_“I'm really going to look the part, aren't I?” Sachiel grinned at them all, trying to suppress the quiver in his voice. Raziel looked at him, the mirth in her eyes quickly giving way to unhappiness._

_“I will have to report this you know.” Her soft statement quieted them all. Sachiel met her eyes, understanding written across his features. He feels his resolve strengthen as someone places a hand on his shoulder, a quiet show of support._

_“I would expect nothing less.”_

* * *

 

“I 'spose I deserve this. I didn't even knock before I came crashing in.”

Steve's head shot up. The angel had been out for five and a half hours, in what seemed to be a deep sleep. Not a peep out of him since Thor had knocked him out again when he'd began to struggle as they were tying him up. Clint had been straight on the coms, ordering a compound wide lockdown and requesting immediate backup from Sam, Thor and newcomer Luke Cage. Together they had managed to get the angel bound and trussed up in one of the containment rooms, which had reinforced walls and a chair bolted to the floor. He had been surprisingly light, lighter than he should have been with the wings attached. Then again, Clint had joked, 'it must be easier to fly when you weigh seventy pounds instead of seven hundred.'

Steve studied the angel for a moment before answering.

“That you do. You should've used the front door. There's a doorbell and everything.” Steve's heart lurched at the breathtaking smile that lit up the angel's face.

'Christ, that's not fair.' Steve thought wryly. 'Not only are these creatures incredible warriors, up close they're even more stunning.' The fighter in him had always begrudgingly admired the combat style of the angels.

“Look at that, you do have a sense of humour. Here I was wondering you were just another boring old monkey.”

Steve was silent then, a sudden burst of white-hot rage flaring up inside of him. This angel no doubt had some part in the present apocalypse, and here he was having the gall to sit and make jokes at his expense. The anger nearly knocked the breath out of him with it's strength.

He could see the angel trying to flex his wings, looking more and more confused when they didn't work like they were supposed to. A surge of vindictive satisfaction ran through him at the thought that finally, he had one of them at his mercy. Luckily Sam had the forethought to bring along a canister of Peter's web mix, and they had coated the enormous wings with the material. It had felt almost criminal to coat the soft, silky feathers with the sticky mess, but right now, Steve was happy he had done so.

“What have you done to my wings?” The angel suddenly growled, snapping his head Steve's way. He was looking more and more furious by the second.

“Don't worry, it's not permanent.” Steve smirked, not being able to hold in the last part. “At least, we don't think it is. We haven't had a chance to test it out on a real angel yet.”

Steve regretted the taunt the second it was out. In a split second the angel had broken the chains and was up and heading towards him. Steve thanked the Lord for Peter's genius as the gummed up wings had clearly put the angel off balance. It gave him a tiny moment to register the angel coming towards him, and within the nick of time ducked to avoid the fist that had been heading straight for his face. But that was the only chance he got, and within the blink of an eye the angel had him up against the wall, hand at his throat.

“Let's talk, funny guy.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late, I've had a hectic week and haven't had much time, but managed to smash this out for ya'll. I promise I'll try my best to get a longer chapter out for you all by Thursday. So, enjoy this angel flashback!

_The Eyrie stood towering above the rest of the city, a pillar of near perfection amongst the ruinous chaos around it. In all their righteous arrogance, Sachiel's brothers and sisters had chosen the Empire State Building as their base of operations, leaving it intact while they razed the rest of the city to the ground._ _It was in the bottom levels of this building that Sachiel found himself, hurriedly gathering what little he dared take with him. Raziel had given him a days grace, time to gather what he needed and get out of the city before she raised the alarm. Really, he needed to get out of the state entirely, but he would take what he could get._

_It was eerily quiet, the low thrumming of music from levels far above the only thing filtering down into his section of the building. The labs that had been Sachiel's home for the past four weeks were usually buzzing with activity. The lower angels that Sachiel usually had around him were off at the party, schmoozing and greasing up to whatever higher up they could in hopes of a promotion or a position outside._

_Not that Sachiel wasn't important. On the contrary. But there had been more than a few complaints of him not 'playing well with others' and being 'difficult' to work with, not to mention a heavy dose of 'self destructive tendencies'. One particular red-headed angel had, after their first meeting, reported that he had a strong case of 'textbook narcissism'. Sachiel had laughingly agreed to that one and invited her back the next day. He had been surprised to see her return, food in hand and a friend in tow._

_Sachiel was a genius, and he knew it. There was no-one else in the entire garrison who could do what he could. Who else could have designed their swords, those brilliant pieces of weaponry that his brethren relied so heavily upon? They had taken a decade of solid work to get right, and even then he had only come out with one perfectly right specimen out of the entire lot. Of course he kept that one for himself. And their armour. What a year that had been. Or had it been two? He couldn't remember. Often when he was deep in his work he would be lost for weeks, months at a time. Working out the kinks had taken him at least eight months, he knew that much at least._

_He also knew that his creations not only kept the angels safe from creatures like demons and cherubim, but also helped protect the human race. Or at least they had, until the order had been given to turn their weapons of protection into instruments of mass destruction. That hadn't been the order at first, Sachiel knew that much. Initially the idea was just to reveal themselves to mankind, to be the benevolent guides leading humankind into a new era. But when the unknown assailant had gunned down Gabriel in a shower of burning metal, the orders changed, igniting a war that was swift in its execution and devastating in its outcome._

_Sachiel had centuries worth of creations stored away, many not ever intended to be used, those ones forged out of a burning curiosity to just see if he could. Only a scant few knew of the true power of some of his designs. One of them, Obadiah, had gone behind his back and informed the angel in charge of two in particular. Despite Sachiel's angry protests he proclaimed it was “for the good of all” and within hours, they had control of two of his worst. One they used to create massive quakes in the earth and another to cause enormous waves that devastated entire coastlines. Sachiel remembered the day clearly._

_He had once called the older angel a friend, a mentor, to the humans he would have been seen as a father figure. That particular betrayal had stung hard. Obadiah's dishonesty was something Sachiel had never been able to forgive, and the fact that his creations were being manipulated and used for purposes they were never intended to be was one of the reasons he was leaving the Eyrie._

_The other was the order itself. It didn't sit right with him. Five hundred years go by with no word from the man upstairs and suddenly they get an order to first protect, then destroy the human race and start a war? There was something not right going on. But with the scarily powerful Uriel running the West Coast and Samael here in the East, and with Raphael missing, no-one dared question what they were told. And Gabriel had believed too. Golden Gabriel, who was the embodiment of the perfect angel. Loyal, brilliant, strong, a perfect specimen. If Gabriel had believed, was there any doubt that these were the true orders of God?_

_Still, something had nagged away at the back of his mind until it was too large to ignore. And with that had come the little revelations. The merciless killings, the whispers of fallen angels. The way he was barely allowed to go anywhere, as if kept on a very tight leash. Sachiel had been roaming the upper floors one evening and come across a group of lower angels discussing a recent demon sighting. They clammed up when Sachiel came into view but he had heard enough._

_The final straw had been when Samael himself had come to him with a special “request”. He had explained to Sachiel that an order had come from Uriel himself on the other coast. A request for some special experimentation from their brightest mind, one that was extremely necessary in their war against the humans. Sachiel's outrage at the explanation of experiments on human youngsters was heard throughout the floor, and he had stalked out halfway through, unwilling to listen any longer. His fury at the inhumane treatments was palpable. Those in the labs steered well clear of the inventor as he worked out his anger over the next few days. Samael had simply looked on, a knowing glint in his eye as he watched the inventor flick angrily about in his lab._

_Sachiel's entire viewpoint had changed. No longer did he believe that the angels, that he, that they were doing the right thing. So blinded by the pleasures and the ease of the life he was used to that he had never stopped to question things. In his comfort he had become arrogant, so sure of himself, so sure that everything was as it was supposed to be that he never stopped to think that things may not be as they should. It was a shock to his system, like a lightening bolt straight through him. And one morning he found himself stunned by a revelation that had come so fast it had left him breathless. He knew what he had to do._

_When he couldn't take it any longer, he had confided in the three people he was closest to. Raziel, the fiery red-head, Barachiel, the towering brunette with sparkling blue eyes, and the one all three reported to, Castiel. Luckily, he had chosen well. With only minimal protest they had heard his claims, his reasonings. And if they hadn't believed, well, at least they understood. They knew Sachiel, knew that despite his outer appearance he was not skittish nor prone to fleeting flights of fancy. He had thought this through. They could clearly see that. And they also knew that once their friend had something in mind, he was determined to follow it through. No matter what. And what none of them would admit is that they too had been having similar thoughts._ _They went through the motions, trying to talk him out of it, trying to make him see reason. But Sachiel would not budge. And so they did what they could, Raziel clearing a way, Barachiel and Castiel giving him the gear he needed. The final part of his plan was in the labs._

_Which is where Sachiel found himself, quickly gathering together the tools he would need and clearing away anything else. Getting rid of his research, destroying any experiments, a part of him felt a pang of sadness. The rest of him felt a surge of relief, as though the process was a cleanse and he was finally getting rid of the last of the toxins. A last sweep of the labs and he was done. He sighed, feeling as though a weight had finally been lifted from his shoulders. A mixture of emotions swept through him, happiness, fear, sorrow. But the overall feeling was rightness, like this was what he was destined to do. With one last look he closed the door and ran, ready to start a new life as Anthony Stark._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, if you like this, check out the wonderful story 'love like untouched art' by unitedwaves. I was just blown away by the fact that someone got so inspired by something I've written, and theirs is absolutely beautiful so please please check it out!!  
> Love to you all!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This hasn't been abandoned I swear! I'm so sorry, I know its been more than a few months but real life has been utterly hectic! Got a call from my aunty in August asking me if I wanted to travel to California for three months (from NZ) to look after my cousins, which, of course I did, but omg what a mission that was. I then came home to my mum in the middle of moving house! So yea, life has been a kick in the lady balls, and I haven't had a lot of spare time to actually just sit down and write, but I have managed to get this out, so I know it ain't much, but here it is, it kinda links into the previous chapter so yeah. All mistakes are mine, feel free to holla at me if something doesnt quite look right. :)  
> If you're still with me, thank you so much. xox

Sachiel had always been of the belief that God must have been on one hell of a role when he created mankind. Yes, Adam and Eve had had their flaws. But the legacy they would gift the earth, those very imperfections, were in his opinion the very thing that made humanity so perfect. He would never dare voice this to the others, to do so would be near treason, but it was a viewpoint that never wavered in its strength and conviction.

For centuries he had watched from his perch in the heavens above. He couldn't help admiring them for their ingenuity, their creativity. Sachiel knew his genius was miles ahead of anything the humans were currently capable of but he also knew they were still growing, still changing. Only God knew if, given the time, humanity could rise to angelic levels.

At first he looked on at the wars they waged on one another, in the early days of their history. Petty, insignificant in-fighting moved to greater wars, for towns, cities, countries. In battle, he realised, humanity showed both its greatest heights and its lowest lows. When this got too much he moved on to the people behind these skirmishes. Watched as they governed their kingdoms, talked politics, shaped and moulded societies into their ridiculous ideals of perfection. Saw how those at the top played their same games over and over again as they had done for millennia.

After a while he'd had enough. Sachiel became bored. He'd learned all he could from them. So he turned his focus onto those with more familiar pursuits. He began to watch the scientists, the geniuses, the creators. And that was where his interest truly peaked. Though he had lived through many centuries his favourites were the more recent times.

A memory of a man, painting the portrait of a woman, the smile on her face possibly the most intriguing thing about her. Sachiel had never figured out why such an incredible man was immortalising on canvas such an unremarkable woman. He had lost many months to the one they called Leonardo. He simply watched from afar, silently consoling the man for his losses and cheering him for his wins. He often caught himself muttering quiet objections and improvements to the creations the man was making, the initial judgement soon giving way to a begrudging respect. In Da Vinci Sachiel had seen an unquenchable curiosity, a beyond-his-time intellect, and in that human found a being not unlike himself.

Which may have been why he'd found himself fixated on one Antoinette Stark, over five hundred years later. The woman had been clever from birth, that much was clear. He watched as she grew from wide-eyed infant to curious toddler, into an ingenious young woman. He watched as she shone despite constant dismissal from the father. He saw how the mother tried to deal with Antoinette's brilliance but could never quite connect to the complex child, and he saw how she thrived under the care and watchful eye of the household butler and his wife.

He was shocked to find that years later, when she would suffer the loss of both her parents, he felt a tinge of grief for the young human. Not for the people themselves but for the effect that their passing had on the woman. For a period the spark in Antoinette died, and Sachiel mourned the fact. No longer did she ferociously protest her full name, after years of preferring Toni to the poncy alternative. No longer did she create with the vigor and vibrancy of an inquisitive mind, instead succumbing to a self-destructive haze of parties, alcohol and long workshop binges. He came to find that it hurt him, in a way, to see such a bright spark willingly and consciously destroy itself. He found himself concerned that it would not last, that the darkness in the woman would become so large that it would overwhelm, consume her entirely. 

But he was wrong.

She kept on going. Though the never-ending parties and alcohol fueled binges never ceased, as the years passed he saw that dimmed spark slowly return, somehow burning even stronger than before. He tried to turn away, focus on more important things, lest his fascination for a simple human be mistaken for something else entirely. But for some inexplicable reason his attention always returned to her. He watched as she shaped humankind's history. Watched as she made weapons of immense power, created artificial systems that nearly rivaled his own. And then he saw her do the one thing that he envied most about humanity. 

She changed.

No longer was she Earth's foremost weapons manufacturer, the deadly and brilliant being Sachiel had been fascinated with. No, she was now a different woman, taking the reins on her own terms, no longer willing to play by any other's rules but her own. And Sachiel was even more intrigued.

Because this was, above all, what he admired most about the humans. Their freewill, the choice they had in playing out their destiny as they saw fit. The ability to shape life as they wanted, to make mistakes, to live and to learn just as Toni had. Although Sachiel had more freedom than most he, like every other angel, lived and was guided by the rules and limitations set out by their heavenly Father. Sachiel hadn't realised just how much those rules governed the angels' lives until he had seen his brothers and sisters mercilessly hunt down and kill the very race that their father had so lovingly created. It was brutal, and swift, and Sachiel no longer wanted any part of it.

So he'd fled the eyrie with little more than the clothes on his back and a name stolen from a human woman. He also took with him the goodwill of the friends he was leaving behind, a treasure he kept close to his heart. He hesitated little, spurred on by a single thought. It was the reason for his flight, for the denial of his kind, and it was what Sachiel had given Castiel when he had first approached the older angel with his plan to leave. This thought bred a fear that churned away inside his very soul. It created a barrage of questions and complexities that made Sachiel challenge everything he knew to be right.

'I _f th_ _at_ _is what God is willing to do to_ _mankind,_ _'_ he thought, _'_ _to the ones_ _that he_ _created with such love and care_ _?_ _Then_ _what_ _is_ _he willing to do to us?_ _'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there it is. You may want to go back and read the rest of it to see how it fits in. Feel free to yell/cream/tell me off for taking so long, I deserve it. ;) I promise I'll try and get some more done asap, we get into the new house on Friday so after that it should be good!!  
> Love y'all! xox

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [love like untouched art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7141628) by [fadinglove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadinglove/pseuds/fadinglove)




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